Bond forged in Blood
by HopelessRomanticxox
Summary: "We are not friends or partners Barton, we are two members of very different teams and that is all we'll ever be." Clint Barton is an Agent with S.H.I.E.L.D. He is sent on a mission to kill the mysterious Black Widow but makes a different call. Rated T for some language and darker descriptions in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**New story! (Before I say anything extra - I am still continuing my other story A year in the Life of the Avengers) - this one is based on Clint meeting Natasha, working alongside her and eventually partnering up with S.H.I.E.L.D :) I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, nor any of the Avengers, organisations etc that are mentioned in this story. I hope you enjoy!**

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"I see. Of course. I understand. Why this information was not passed directly to me in the first place I do not know but I have my back-ups,' Director Fury turned to Coulson with a nod to the door, mouthing the words 'Get Barton' as he did so, 'thank you." He put the phone back onto the hook and sighed in exasperation, running a hand down his face and slamming it against the table. Looking out the large window Nick Fury gazed out to the skies, the clouds grey from the recent rainfall. S.H.I.E.L.D's Helicarrier was settled on water at the moment, no hurry to get anywhere. The water lapped against the sides, waves larger with the wind in their backs.

Coulson took the shortcut to the training floor where he knew Clint Barton would be. There greatest marksmen it surprised him that Barton hadn't been asked to complete the task when they first received it, but after sixteen years of working for S.H.I.E.L.D he had learnt better than to question his boss. Most of the time the Director was right anyway.

The training floor was dedicated in preparing the S.H.I.E.L.D agents for everything they needed, a sparring floor, a wrestling ring, target practices and all manner of high bars, ropes and obstacle courses. Clint was to be found in one of two places. The rafters, looking out on who comes and goes, or the target practice; firing arrow after arrow in the boards. The latter was where Coulson found him.

"Come to join me?" Clint asked with slight humour in his voice as he fired three more arrows in succession before turning to his handler.

"No such luck, Director Fury wants a word." The marksman sighed, collapsing his bow and slotting it back into place on the wall. He turned to Coulson and gestured for him to lead the way.

"Anything important?"

"A mission." Coulson's reply was professional, never being one for chit chat. He was a smartly dressed man, preferring to wear suits and ties than casual wear. Phil Coulson was one of the higher level agents, no longer going out into the field but instead training his men to be the best they can be. It was a field day when he was told that he was getting Clint Barton. Despite being an excellent marksman, a gymnast and incredible sniper, the man wasn't always expected to be on time everywhere, would do things at his own pace in his own time and more often than not being called into offices for trouble he seemed to always be around. The amount of paperwork generated around that one man was enough to put Coulson in an ink induced headache for over a week.

S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters was a moving Helicarrier that could transport on water, under water and in the skies. A large military base it held every single operation you could imagine and a lot more. The inside was expansive, corridors leading in all manner of directions; a labyrinth for those who hadn't been here long. Clint had taken to mapping out his surroundings to the last detail since he was a child and despite only being here four years, he knew the HQ inside and out. Following his handler and friend quickly through the corridors they soon arrived at Director Nick Fury's office and Phil ushered him in.

"You have a mission for me?" Clint asked, all joking aside as he slipped into his Hawkeye alias and perched in the chair opposite. Fury was looking over a file, studying the information and quickly closing it, returning Clint's gaze.

"I do. I did have another Agent but he became…compromised." He turned the file around and slid it towards Clint. Tapping the cover he began to explain;

"Black Widow. Russian assassin working for Department X – an organisation that seem to be kidnapping young girls and turning them into unforgiving killing machines. She's their best."

"What have we got to go on?" Clint asked opening the file. He was surprised to see the lack of information, and no photograph.

"As you can see not much. But we do know a couple of things. She has a particular skill set and is used to seduce men into giving up information before killing them in cold blood. Hundreds, both innocent and guilty have been killed under her name. The Black Widow got up on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar a while ago, after killing three Chinese emperors in two months and all for very little reason. We have been monitoring her activities, waiting for her to crop up again and now we have her." Nick explained, lifting the first page to show everything he had just said written down.

"Feisty. I take it you want me to swoop in, kill the widow, swoop back out again?"

"If you'd be so kind."

"Talk to me, where am I heading?"

"Just outside Baños Ecuador. Our S.H.I.E.L.D Agent tracked her down to the Agoyan waterfall. Word is there's a drugs-lord doing some extremely interesting deals to Red Room's leader and has duped him in some way. Black Widow's been sent to kill him. You're being sent to kill her. Kill him too and you get a Christmas bonus." Fury smirked.

"I'll be back before breakfast."

"I'll warm up the eggs."

That evening Clint boarded one of the quinjets and along with a single bag of luggage began the flight to Baños. It was around 7 hours and after finally landing Clint was directed to his safe house by an international Agent and began to settle in.

The room was nothing special, but it never really was. A double bed sat against the centre of the wall with a bedside table and a chest of drawers opposite. On the top sat an ancient television set but Clint wasn't one to watch mindless programmes. A little ensuite in the corner housed the basics, a toilet, a sink and a shower that appeared to have seen better days. After dumping his bag on the bed Clint propped up one of the thin pillows and got himself as comfy as possible, using the lamp light to read through the file once more. Not much was known about the Black Widow and a tiny spark at the back of his mind was begging Clint to find out more before ending her life. A face with just an alias was almost as bad as a face with no name at all and if he was to see his target, he couldn't kill her with no name.

Ecuador was hot, hot and sticky. Something that despite travelling all over the world, Clint still struggled to get used too. When he worked out for hours on end he was always covered in a thick layer of sweat but that was working out sweat, this was just annoying. He had taken two showers already before he deemed himself ready to try and sleep but the fight with whether or not he was sleeping with the sheet raged on. In the end the blanket had been kicked to the floor and Clint fell into a restless slumber, one arm tucked beneath his pillow and keeping a firm grip on the butt of his pistol while the other dangled aimlessly off the bed. Throughout the night he woke to several unusual sounds, the noises of a jungle city but eventually he got a few hours relatively decent kip. It was enough for him to go on anyway.

Ensuring his bow was secure over his shoulder, and the quiver tightened against his back Clint finished his glass of water and exited the cabin. The heat struck his skin like fire hits a match and in seconds his just washed body was coated with a thin layer of sweat.

"Brilliant(!)" He muttered to himself before heading off, trekking into the jungle depths. It wasn't long before the thick dense foliage crept up on all sides and the unfamiliar noises sparked up again. The sound of monkeys chattering to one another in the tree's and birds calling out from miles away. The sun peeked between the leaves, a longing to reach the ground but many rays failed to do so. This left Clint in the shadows, just the way he liked it.

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**Hope you enjoyed the start! I appreciate any reviews :D xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 :)**

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After hours of walking, the undergrowth beneath his feet covering his footsteps Clint finally heard something other than animals. Water. The thrilling rush of clear water crashing down to somewhere beneath him. Following the sound and allowing it to grow louder and louder – the perfect cover – Clint tracked it down to the waterfall Fury had mentioned to him in the briefing.

It was breathtaking. Crystal clear water from high up above, tumbling over the edge and cascading over rocks and crevices to whatever lay below. He watched, mesmerised as litres and litres continued to flow, an everlasting natural beauty. Sometimes, when his missions took him to unknown foreign lands, the crappy bits; the heat and the bugs and the sweat was soon forgotten when he cast his eyes on something so beautiful.

But onwards. Walking away from the waterfall, but not too far Clint soon began to realise that standing on the ground and pushing through bushes was all well and good. But for an archer, a marksman who had a target to track he was in the wrong place entirely. He needed to be above; a birds-eye view. Clint looked around, spotting an ideal tree and after checking around him, he began climbing.

Settling in amongst the branches and leaves he did something he was known best for. Waited.

It was when Clint was so acclimated to his surroundings, after perching on the branch well into the heat of the day and still not moving, when there was no movement and he honestly thought he was wasting his time that something finally happened. A woman, young, maybe early twenties, darted out from amongst the tree's looking cautiously around her. She was pretty, Clint observed, bright red hair tumbling in curls down her back and probably sweltering in black trousers and a strappy top.

He watched as she pressed herself against a rock, hidden and out of sight to anyone not in the tree's and listened to what she could hear. Voices. Clear as day and in English, despite the thick Spanish accents.

"We have only today, I want the cargo out of my sight." The first man told the other. He was portly with thinning hair and sweating gallons. From the look of disgust he caught on the red heads face, he didn't smell too pretty either. The other man was tall and thin, but with around the same amount of hair.

"He knows. There is word that he found out. He will kill us."

"The man never leaves Russia, he will kill no one."

"He has people who will."

"His precious niñas? They will do nothing." Came the first man's confident reply. The woman hiding behind the rocks however clearly disagreed. These weren't the people she was sent to kill, but blood was going to be spilt. Clint was observing, he wasn't going to save them. While it may seem unfair in the long run this was the Black Widow, a woman who nobody knew anything about and Clint was supposed to just kill her? He would at least observe her first, get some idea of what he was up against.

She stepped out from behind the rock, stealthily – like a predator. In two resounding _cracks _the men were dead, heads twisted to impossible angles. Clint couldn't help but grin.

He raised his bow silently, sliding an arrow into place watching as she hid the bodies amongst the tree's. Capturing the widow in his scope he pulled the arrow back until it was brushing alongside his ear and waited for the opportune moment. Sensing it, he readied to release. But he halted. Watching the young woman break two necks so fluidly and then not utter a word afterwards took some training and the fact she didn't falter, didn't even stop to consider what her actions had just been. There was no consideration, not in the slightest, like every inch of empathy had been trained out of her. Clint suddenly didn't want to kill her, not yet anyway. He wanted to know more about what made the Black Widow tick. That was when she stopped. Stopped everything she was doing and stood bolt upright, alert to an invisible sound. She didn't look wildly around, nor did she appear scared, only startled if anything. Clint supposed not many people had the ability to sneak up on the Russian assassin.

Instead of looking upwards and at the archer concealed in the tree's she looked to the base of the tree, Clint following her gaze. Nothing. But when he looked up she had darted off, into the foliage and towards the raging waters. Clint wasted no time, leaping from the tree with the agility much like the monkeys swinging from the jungle vines and landing quietly on the ground he took off, replacing his bow and arrow as he did so.

She led him on some sort of wild cross country chase, jumping fallen trees, ducking beneath vines and sidestepping overgrown plants. Reaching the rocky landscape that surrounded the waterfall she didn't falter, instead running straight out onto the thin cliff edge. She stopped running, walking the edge like an acrobat would a tightrope and spinning to face Clint with cat like agility.

"Кто вы?" She cocked her head to the side a little and considered him for a moment. Clint's Russian was rusty, he could barely greet a person let alone get involved in conversation. So Clint didn't respond, instead just walked forward, only a small step but equally she stepped back.

"Why didn't you shoot?" She asks this time in fluent English.

"I'm taking a chance." He responds calmly, and his eyes graze her face for any sign of expression. However she remained stony and serious.

"дурак." She smirks and although Clint was unable to understand what she just said, he made a mental note to check with a translator as soon as possible.

"You know I don't talk that much Russian? Dribs and drabs, I can order a mean steak and chips if needs must." He replied with slight humour in his voice which was wiped suddenly as she pulled a gun and shot. Ducking, he punched forwards, attempting to disarm without major injury. She was quick to avoid also and they set into some sort of sparring match, attacking and blocking while keeping their balance. They stopped as they reached the waterfall, the spray of rushing water sprinkling their hot sweaty faces and cooling them a little.

The widow ducked through the waterfall and disappeared behind it, where a small cave had been formed in the rock.

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**So Clint's met the widow :) What lies in store...Chapter 3 will be up once its been fed some reviews :D hint hint...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch.3 for all you lovely readers :)**

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"You have orders to kill me?" She asked in English, pulling her now soaked straight hair to her shoulder and wringing it a little, leaving it damp against her strappy top. She looked up, her large green eyes sourcing his grey ones.

"I don't always follow my orders. I'm a bit of a 'do what I thinks best' kinda guy." He replied, leaving his own hair and instead checking his equipment.

"And you think saving me is best?"

"Giving you a chance. I haven't seen you do anything you weren't supposed to do. You follow orders you get in get out, you don't question authority you don't find out about your targets. You can't tell the difference between guilty and innocent."

"Says who?"

"Clint Barton."

"You are an American fool Clint Barton."

She stands and walks out of the cave, standing in the water getting drenched again.

"Not completely. I've learnt to expect the unexpected."

"Did you expect this?" She smirks and turns, diving off the cliff and down hundreds of feet into the raging waters below.

"Jesus!" He yells, running to the very edge just as her red hair disappeared amongst the foamy water. Ensuring his equipment was safe on his back Clint cursed under his breath before following.

The fall was sky diving without a parachute, the rush of adrenaline almost masking the huge risk he was taking. If Coulson or Fury were here now he'd be almost immediately taken back to S.H.I.E.L.D, punished and dumping with paperwork for the rest of his life.

Diving into the water all of his senses were wiped for a second as the sound of bubbling water surrounded him. Despite the drop and the amount of water it wasn't as a cold as he was expecting, but it was definitely refreshing. Surfacing he blinked a few times and looked around, catching sight of her vanishing into the tree's.

"I should have killed you earlier, a lot less stress." He mumbled breathlessly, swimming to the edge and climbing up onto the grass and into the jungle.

As he wandered quietly through the tree's the search was soon becoming impossible and Clint had soon decided he had lost her again. That was until something pulled his leg into the bushes and immediately his hand went for his knife.

"Don't even try it now shush." She whispered and Clint inwardly sighed at the craziness this mission was becoming.

However on the path he had just been about to take another collection of men arrived. All Spanish looking and with the same thick accent that came from earlier. They didn't speak any English and continued walking, chatting about something with quiet voices. Soon after they vanished into the tree's and it became safe to speak up once more.

"They'll be who you're after I take it." Clint asked, turning to the widow.

"Babieca Cayo. He owns the organisation and has been selling drugs to my bosses. Poisoning them." She whispered swiftly and professionally.

"Ouch. You're bosses? Department X?" Clint replied in hushed tones.

"Red Room yeah. It's my job to assassinate the company that tried to kill my boss."

"He have an identity?"

"Late forties, 5'5 maybe? Balding, could do with cutting out food for a month or two." She explained. Then suddenly, from being calm around him and talking about her mission, a wall went up. Her eyes glazed over and she looked just like the girl he spotted that morning sitting behind a rock.

"You okay?" He asked as she stood from her spot and glared at him, all casualness gone.

"You need to leave." She told him.

"What?"

"Your job was to come here and kill me but I think we both know that is not going to happen. Besides, before you even touch that bow of yours, you'll be dead and on the ground." She explained icily.

"I'm not going to kill you. I told you, I'm changed my mind."

"Well if you don't leave I am going to kill you."

"What?" In seconds she pinned him against the tree trunk, eyes burning into his with murder.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you. We are not partners, we are not friends. This is my mission and I will not work with anyone else. If you leave now, you can live. Take longer and my bullet will make home in your brain." With that she turned on her heel and stalked off into the jungle and out of sight.

"What the hell?" Clint whispered watching her go.

After showering and eating Clint returned to the bed and looked back over the file. On a scrap piece of paper he drew a rough version of the Black Widow, remembering her bright red curls and large green eyes as easily as if he were looking at a photograph. It was a talent that not many people knew about and after looking at the finished drawing Clint decided he'd rather keep it that way. Tucking it into his trouser pocket he closed the file and leaned up against the headboard.

Fury and Coulson would not let him leave Ecuador until his mission was complete and once he had checked in with his handler and extended the truth a little – telling Coulson that he had a location for the black widow tomorrow and he would complete his task then, he tucked his equipment away and attempted to get some sleep.

In the middle of the night, maybe closer to three in the morning the tiniest sound woke him. Or maybe it was the lack of sound, having quickly grown used to chattering of jungle animals and for them to be silent was unusual. Clint's hand was naturally, gripping the butt of his gun under the pillow as he lay there, looking round the room and allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Whatever woke him, had gone. Pushing himself up and out of bed Clint took the gun with him as he checked over the cabin, nosing in the bathroom and peering out the window. When everything had been thoroughly checked, only then did he allow himself to return to sleep.

The following morning and Clint was deep into the jungle before dawn had broken. He passed the clearing he first met the widow, paused at the waterfall to cool himself down and was in amongst the tree's where everything had changed by seven. Not far up ahead was the camp the drugs bust was going down in, Clint noticing jeeps and cargo trucks waiting on standby. He found himself a tree and was nestled in amongst the branches before anyone could spot him. Then he watched the scene unfold like a play on centre stage.

The man Black widow had described was one of the first to arrive, assessing the goods and sending orders in Spanish to each of his men. Clint spoke more Spanish than he did Russian and it didn't take him long to pick up on the conversation.

"Los quiero a todos en bolsas y se carga, no puedo darse el lujo de perder el tiempo" Cayo ordered and others darted this way and that, unpacking the crates and loading them onto the vehicles.

_[I want them all bagged and loaded, I cannot afford to waste time]_

"Petrov ha enviado espías que es consciente de lo que ha sucedido, señor, que sabe lo que hay en el polvo." A younger man, maybe 25, arrived from beyond the tree's a knife in his hand that, from their expressions, was clearly not his.

_[Petrov has sent spies he is aware of what has happened sir, he knows what's in the powder.]_

"Sigue trabajando! Seremos ido de aquí mucho antes de que esos hijos de puta rusos nos encontrarán. Pero vamos a estar todos muertos en la hora, si no te das prisa para arriba!"

_[Keep working! We shall be gone from here long before those Russian bastards will find us. But we will all be dead in the hour if you do not hurry up!]_

To their bosses word they sped the process up but unbeknownst to Cayo, the Russian bastard he spoke about was in fact watching the whole situation. If she was aware Clint had spotted her, she showed no signs, ever the professional when going about her line of work. Clint had chosen not to act, he still wasn't ready to kill the woman, however these men were on his hit list as well. Barton had decided to make his final call, only once he knew her name. Her real name.

"Tome los camiones a la frontera, me encontraré allí." Cayo declared once the trucks were full of powder packets.

_[Take the trucks to the border, I will meet you there.]_

The Spanish workers began unlocking and climbing into the trucks when Widow made her move.

"No se le va señores en cualquier lugar con vida." Her Spanish was fluent also and it made the archer curious as to just how many languages she could speak with ease.

_[You will not be going anywhere alive gentlemen.]_

"Usted debe ser el aterrador espía ruso supongo? Una pequeña, pequeña" Cayo turned with an amused smirk across his face. It was one of those expressions you just wanted to punch out of him. Clint did anyway.

_[You must be the terrifying Russian spy I assume? A tiny, little girl.]_

"Una niña pequeña que puede romper el cuello de mil maneras diferentes antes de siquiera pensar en gritar" Her response was clear and sinister though she spoke with calm and profession. From his spot in the tree's Clint couldn't help but grin.

_[A tiny little girl who can break your neck in a thousand different ways before you even think to scream]_

"¿Es así? Sus jefes deben estar muy orgullosos. Estoy seguro de que voy a contar desde su lecho de muerte. O a la suya. Dispara a ella."

_[Is that so? Your bosses must be so proud. I'm sure they'll tell you from their death beds. Or from yours. Shoot her.]_

The worker who pulled his gun was also the first to be killed, with one of the many neck breaking talents she claimed to possess. Realising just what they were up against weapons were drawn but the black widow was skilled, kicking guns out of hands and sending dead bodies to the ground in seconds. It was only when Clint noticed she was strangling two and Babieca Cayo was armed with the knife that he realised she could be in trouble. From his spot in the tree's Clint was able to aim and fire an arrow in seconds, catching one of her victims in the throat and allowing her to turn and disarm Cayo, kicking him to the ground and twisting his neck to an impossible angle with a blood-curdling _crunch_.

Clint dropped to the ground and dusted himself off, looking at the chaos around them.

"I didn't need your help." She spoke with warning as she pocketed the knife and observed the bodies around them.

"A simple thank you would suffice." He replied casually.

"What are you still doing here?" She asked, leaning against the tree and breathing heavily. Clint dived into his bag, pulling out a bottle of fresh water and handing it over. She looked suspiciously at him and the water, popping open the lid and checking the contents. When she deemed it safe to consume, half the bottle was gone in seconds.

"I had a job to do."

"Oh right, killing me?"

"And Cayo. One down."

"One to go?" She asked with a false grin.

"Not yet. I have some questions first."

"What?"

"Your name?"

"You know my name." She replied in exasperated tones, drinking from the bottle again.

"I know your alias. You know _my _name." He returned.

"Natalia,' Was all she gave him, 'my turn. What's your alias? I know your name."

"Hawkeye. Why were you in my cabin last night?" This one she looked a little perturbed by and he couldn't help but smirk.

"I needed to check my file. I had to know just how much information your organisation had on me. Why haven't you killed me?"

"You don't need to die. Not by my hands anyway. Why did you get frosty on me yesterday and disappear?" She remained silent for a few minutes at this question and Clint thought maybe she would close up on him again.

"You got to close. I let you get too close. I never let anyone get close that's what I am good at." She spoke quietly.

"Come with me." Clint asked. It wasn't a question he'd planned, nor one he thought about, but now it was out there he didn't regret it. She smiled, not unpleasantly, but not happily either.

"That's 2 questions. Cheat." He laughed at her retort.

"That's not a no." He observed.

"No it isn't. I'm sure I'll see you around Hawkeye." She replied, putting the almost empty bottle of water into a bag she pulled from one of the bodies.

"See ya Natalia." He responded quietly, as she returned to the tree's.

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**Hope you enjoyed :) Ch. 4 is written and ready but its publishing can only be fuelled by reviews! :) Xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**More for my lovely readers :)**

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"What the hell do you mean she isn't dead?!" Fury yelled, the debriefing going roughly as Clint expected. They were back on the Helicarrier and after forty five minutes of skirting round the topic Clint had finally come out with the truth. He let the black widow go.

"I killed the drugs lords." Clint replied in the hope it would make up for something.

"That was not your mission Agent Barton and from what you've told me, the black widow finished him off you just helped." He responded, sighing and putting his elbows against the desk, leaning on his hands.

"Sir, I know I didn't complete the mission to the extent you expected because I don't think she deserved to die. I know she works for the enemy, I get that, I do, but hear me out."

"This better be good Barton."

"I think she'd be an amazing S.H.I.E.L.D Agent."

"Agent Barton I hope to God that you are joking or I actually might have to kill you. Now I have people tracking her down. You are no longer on this case, you have been compromised. I will send someone else." He explained, signing a piece of paper and therefore, ending the conversation.

"Sir I have not been compromised?! I can do this. I just don't think it is right."

"This isn't a question Barton, this is not up for discussion. You can leave."

A huge part of Clint wanted to argue, but the look on his bosses face and the repercussions were too great so instead he pushed his chair back with force and stormed out of the room, angry but silent. Bypassing his handler and the other Agents, he headed to the training floor, skipped the target practice and swung up through the railings into the rafters. Sitting on the floor he swung his legs through the bars and leaned against the top.

Thinking back to the debriefing he could understand perfectly why Fury was so against the idea of having an assassin in their ranks, but something told him that Natalia would prefer it. He could tell just by the look of her that she didn't particularly enjoy being forced to kill people that she knew nothing about even the way she said the words Red Room, it wasn't a proud thing, something she was happy with. That much Clint had been trained to tell just from voices.

Coming up with an idea Clint leapt down from the rafters, practically ran through the corridors to his own quarters and to his own laptop. Firing it up he typed in the various passcodes and began to read through the files of names and locations on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar, until his came to Department X and Red Room. Sitting in silence he read through the information, the links and the highlights until he was sure he had all the information that S.H.I.E.L.D had gathered over the years.

"Holy shit Nat." He whispered as he read through the final pieces.

"Nat your new imaginary friend Barton?" Phil asked from behind. Clint closed the files swiftly and looked up at his handler.

"Clint I've been stood behind you the past ten minutes I've seen everything you have been reading. I was surprised, I think twice, in the whole time I've known you I have ever been able to sneak up on you." He replied, sitting himself on the edge of the bed and looking at the archer.

"It's just some follow up stuff, you know."

"I believe Fury took you off the case." Coulson replied calmly.

"For all the wrong reasons!" Clint responded, barely containing his annoyance.

"You suggested bringing a rogue Agent into our company? An Agent you sent out to kill no less."

"I have my reasons!"

"According to Fury you were compromised."

"I was not compromised. I wasn't I swear. You didn't see her Phil. Yeah she may act tough, walk the walk etc. but department X take girls as young as six. They take six year old girls and transform them into killing machines."

"Clint that's exactly our point. Department X take the young girls and transform them, giving them abilities designed to get what they want. One thing we know for certain about the black widow, the one thing we have seen, she can seduce men and spin all sorts of stories to have them thinking whatever she wants. It only takes a second and she'll have you believing that she was a young girl forced against her will and now stuck in this mess, waiting for a stupid enough man to come along, believe the stories and save her." Phil replied. Clint didn't comment , closing his laptop lid and turning his chair to look at his handler.

"Then give me a chance to find her and see if she was telling the truth. If she was taking me for a ride, I'll kill her. Mission complete."

"You've been taken off the mission Clint." Coulson's reply was laced with exhaustion.

"Please Phil." Barton was not one to beg, but he was not one to have his reputation moulded into something it wasn't, especially not by a woman.

"No promises." Coulson got up and walked away.

For the next few weeks there was nothing. Coulson sent Clint out on basic missions and a few overseas but nothing involving the black widow. Clint knew that trackers were still looking into her location and Coulson was keeping tabs on them as a favour to Fury but it had been decided that as well as sending out new agents for the mission, Clint would be sent out on a separate one first – a fake one.

"I hope you realise just how close to the line this idea has put my job." Phil told him after they discussed it one evening.

"I am aware that I owe you hugely. Thank you." He reassured.

That evening was when the news came. It was the middle of the night but at the buzzing of the mobile, Clint was awake – rather unwillingly and fumbling around for the source of the noise.

"Hullo?" He muffled, more talking into the pillow than the handset.

"You have one hour to get yourself up, dressed and with a bag packed. You're going to Turkey." Coulson's voice was formal and wide awake down the end.

"Can it not wait till the morning?" Clint questioned, climbing out of bed anyway.

"You wanna find her don't you?" Coulson pointed out, hanging up. Clint smirked, showering, dressing and packing a small duffle bag before heading to the jet floor.

Phil was already waiting by one of the quinjets, checking his watch and visibly relaxing when Clint finally turned up.

"45 minutes, call it record time." Clint greeted, taking the key and boarding the jet, slinging his bag to one of the passenger seats.

"I've told Director Fury that you've been given time off. I suggested London to him so that's where he thinks you have gone. Do not let me down." Coulson warned.

"You can count on me. Just keep quiet. That's all I'm asking. See you in a bit." With that, Clint slipped into the passenger seat and Coulson climbed off allowing the quinjet to take off into the air.

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Ankara was a lot cooler than Ecuador and being later into the year, more prone to cold showers. Something that could definitely be considered a nice change. As he arrived the skies threatened rain but so far, all was dry. He did however need to turn the collar of his jacket up, something he never really imagined with Turkey.

He was given one of S.H.I.E.L.D's safe-houses this time, under the pretence that he was on holiday. They were decorated and working like a regular hotel or villa and definitely an improvement to a cabin in the jungle. The bedroom was bigger, with a larger, more comfortable bed and the option of heating or air conditioning in the room. The ensuite bathroom was also larger, cleaner and just appealed more. Ideally though, Clint would be in and out of Ankara before he got comfortable.

The view from the window was also an improvement, looking out into the bustling city streets and watching the traffic flow steadily around the city. The safe house was practically in the middle of the city, surrounded by tourist traps and various other buildings. They were an assortment of different coloured buildings, sandy bricks, deep red and bright white buildings to bring in the tourists. There used to be a time where Clint would willingly go and have a look around the shops, see what was on offer but this wasn't a _real _holiday, it was a secret mission, and he had work to do.

The trackers had been able to source her down into one city but whereabouts was down to Clint. And Ankara was a big city. He had a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time but looking for interesting activities would be a good start. Setting off on foot he made to look like a tourist, loose shirt and jeans to blend in with the crowds of tourists flooding the streets. He looked this way and that, knowing that she may not necessarily look the same hair colour or dress-wise, but those eyes would be hard to miss. That and the fact she was seriously good at covert operations.

Surprisingly it didn't take as long as he expected to find her, as he sat in a café drinking coffee – over the road in a darkened alleyway he watched as she pinned a foreigner up against the wall with a knife, while simultaneously knocking three others out with her other arm and leg. She was right in Ecuador – she didn't need help. So he just watched, until the time was right, the men were unconscious and she was on the move. He swiftly took the skies, using the adjoining rooftops around the city to keep track without being watched. Disappearing into the crowds he firmly trained one eye on her, never losing her, despite how many twists and turns she made in the effort to be evaded. Until that was, she turned one corner and vanished out of sight. Clint swore, looking amongst the crowds of people in the hope that maybe she had just double backed on herself but no, she was gone. After continuing to walk around and trying to trace her with no luck Clint gave up and returned to his safe house.

"Why are you following me?" A voice asked, barely before he could enter the door. It was the voice he had been searching for.

"This is a safe house. A S.H.I.E.L.D safe house how the hell did you get in?" He asked.

"Oh please, sweet talk a security guard and he'll give you just about anything." She replied with a smirk, tossing a key card onto the bed and looking at Clint with seriousness in her eyes.

"Why are you following me?" She repeated.

"To warn you. You have a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent coming in the morning. They've been sent here to kill you."

"Because that worked out so well last time. Honestly, your people never give up do they?" She reminded him, pointing forwards.

"Yeah well this time it won't work in your favour sweetheart."

"I'm not your _sweetheart _Barton don't you forget it. Why won't it work in my favour?"

"He and his husband are very happy together, actually." He smirked as she rolled her eyes.

"You think that can stop me?" She asked, changing her tone to a seductive one, her entire persona changing into one of her characters.

"Just warning you."

"Clint Barton, S.H.I.E.L.D Agent, warning me against another S.H.I.E.L.D Agent who is trying to complete his mission?" She smirked, her voice returning to its usual state.

"Don't get used to it, I'm doing you a favour."

"You don't owe me anything?" Natalia commented, shields up suddenly.

"I didn't say I did. Call it, one friendly turn to another."

"We are not friends or partners Barton, we are two members of very different teams and that is all we'll ever be. I appreciate you warning me about the other Agent but I can handle him and I do not need your help." She replied, turning to leave.

"I'm not saying anything other. Just remember this, you're the one who came to me."

"You followed me halfway round the world." She argued back, walking out of the safe house and once again, disappearing.

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**What do you think? x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 for all my wonderful readers, thank you for the reviews :D**

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He wasn't annoyed. Much to the contrary. This was exactly what he had expected from the Russian spy but he wasn't ready to leave yet. He still had to stop a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent from assassinating her. Amongst other things. It was early in the morning and after running through his collection of thoughts in the shower, Clint needed to get out. Stepping outside, the cool pre-dawn air was refreshing and mind clearing as he set off, no real destination in mind. It was nice to walk through the darkened streets with nobody around, no real noises apart from far off traffic and the occasional bird. A delicious waft of baked bread floated in the air as he passed a bakers, reminding him that he hadn't had breakfast. After looking through his mind map of the city that he memorised yesterday, Clint turned a few corners and made a sharp left, ending up outside the quaint little 24 hour café he had visited yesterday. Sitting down and he was handed a menu by the cheery looking middle-aged waitress and he settled in to read the various Turkish meals.

"Bir Sucuklu Yumurta ve çay teşekkürler." He handed the menu back and the waitress bustled into the backroom to relay his order. This gave Clint the chance to look out the window and observe the city in comfort , watch the sun break through the clouds and marvel as the dim light cast a magical glow on the bodies of individual buildings.

Breakfast was perfect, a plate of traditional sausage and eggs with tea – the expected breakfast drink in Turkey and Clint was not too keen on coffee. He ate in comfortable silence, speaking up only when the waitress asked if everything was okay, and when he was ready to pay. After handing over the coins and a small tip he got up from his seat and returned outside, where the sun had made everything a little warmer and the sky was becoming a beautiful morning blue.

The peaceful walk was soon interrupted by an incessant ringing of a telephone, Clint's mobile to be precise. Nobody other than S.H.I.E.L.D agents ever rang so he found himself a quiet alleyway to answer in relative privacy.

"Barton." He greeted with clipped formality as his eyes scoped for eavesdroppers.

"Agent Barton I have been told by Coulson you are in London?" It was Fury, and not often did the boss himself have something to say via mobile.

"That's right sir, vacation of sorts." Clint lied easily.

"Then I apologise for cutting your vacation short but I need you to do some work. The Indian princess Sophia Deshpande is being headhunted during her stay in London and I need you to dispose of the assassin. You have tickets being faxed to the safe house with entry to the Victoria Ball in two days, where the princess will be. I need you to get in and ensure her safety." He hung up. Fury was never one to stay on the line for responses or goodbyes but Clint now had to get to London, save a princess and all without rousing suspicion. It looked like his time with the black widow was once again finished before it had begun.

He couldn't fault the city of London, it was definitely one his favourite places to go. The busy streets and sky high buildings was so much like America, but the large open spaces and decent restaurants helped make it a step above his homeland. It was late evening when he arrived, choosing to sample more of the Turkish city before crossing over to the United Kingdom.

The streets were full of traffic, taxi's, buses and cars all filled with people desperate to get home and to families no doubt. The safe house was situation in Kensington, a wealthier part of the capital and filled with beautiful architecture.

The two days passed with relative simplicity. He was taken and introduced to Her Royal Highness, the princess Sophia Deshpande and given a run through of the Victoria Ball's events. It was a charity piece for the wealthy and important to come together and talk about business, politics and other traditional topics that Clint was sure would bore him enough to want to stay focussed. The man he would be targeting was part of a small Indian collective, wanting to overthrow the princess because of what she believed in. Clint didn't know what she believed in, nor did he particularly care.

Coulson had called the evening he arrived, checking in to make sure everything was still wrapped in cover and that Fury didn't expect anything. It was clear to the archer that his handler was struggling with everything that was going on, despite being an Agent for a spy organisation that excelled in lying and keeping secrets. It was ironic really. However he reassured Coulson and promised that his job would still be intact.

The ball was at seven o'clock on the Friday evening. Clint had to be down on the floor rather than working from afar which made things a lot more complicated when it came to quietly disposing of a man. Then again he assumed it would probably generate the same amount of panic had he been on a rooftop – he never normally stuck around to find out. The event was going as planned, and just as he had expected. Small groups of people bonding over tiny pieces of food and the thinnest of champagne glasses as they mingled, chatting about current events and other boring topics. Clint had found himself a spot at the bar, a location perfect in the sense that he pretty much met every person here, without moving once. He wasn't drinking anything other than water, finding that alcohol was too risky in a room full of people and he wasn't much of a social drinker anyway. It tended to be, alone in his apartment with a can of beer and a late night movie if anything. Deshpande was circling, greeting and conversing with all sorts of people and seemed to have an inclination towards wealthy younger men. Go figure.

It didn't take Clint long to find the man he assumed was behind the assassination attempt. Relatively young, Indian, and with a serious look upon his face. So business was his acumen. What was unexpected however, were the four other men that tailed him. Clint had never been told that this man would not be operating alone. While this didn't faze him, he was more than capable of taking out five men under usual circumstances – this was in a room with a hundred other people, all with no idea what was about to happen. He needed some sort of diversion, a reason to draw them outside.

"Create a block for me. I need them outside, there's more than one. Get them outside and I can take them, it's too risky with this amount of civilians." Clint spoke quietly into his ear piece and a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent responded immediately. In a matter of moments another figure was talking to the princess, directing her to follow and the following men responded too.

Clint took the back exit, slipping through fire exits in the need to get to the grounds first. Once she had been led outside, Clint took shots, allowing the other Agent to take the princess to safety and for the archer to deal with the assassins. They had come prepared for a fire fight, each brandishing all manner of weapons and training to fight.

Shooting to injure Clint was soon caught up in the middle of the fight, holding a pistol with one hand and another man's neck with his other. But these men had been trained and were powerful, and while overall Clint was doing better, the weight and victory was on their side. Clint was in a fist fight when it happened. His weapon had been discarded after he emptied his magazine and now he was against two of the men, a third and fourth approaching from either side with only flesh wounds from his firing frenzy.

However before they reached Clint they were attacked and knocked to the ground, allowing Barton to finish off the two in his reach with relative ease before turning and taking note of the situation.

"Natalia?" He asked with confusion at the sight of the other assassin. She was stood over the third and fourth man, her red hair loose against her back and wearing a black cat-suit that accentuated her figure.

"Call it one friendly turn to another." She echoed his words back to him, before looking up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"S.H.I.E.L.D agents. You have to go." Clint responded with urgency.

"I'll be at your safe house." She replied with an air of mystery before swinging off the edge of the room and down towards the streets.

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**Please read and review, I appreciate your thoughts!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 (sorry its late, wasn't intentional) but please, enjoy :)**

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After clearing up with the building owners and ensuring the princess was unharmed Clint was free to return to his vacation – a debriefing would be held when he returned to New York. Walking rather than catching a lift back to the safe house Clint had time to think things over and just why the Black Widow had followed him to London to help out no less, after their less than happy meeting in Ankara. True to her word, she was sitting in the armchair of his room when he returned, her weapons belt dangling over the back of the desk chair and a book in her hands. She looked up as the door clicked open, considering for a second grabbing her gun only to see Clint. She closed the book and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward to look at him.

"Gonna explain why you're here?" He asked with casual tone, ditching his weapons and tactical gear and stepping into the bathroom to clear up.

"You're Agent, the one sent to kill me. He won't be returning to S.H.I.E.L.D." She told him calmly. To talk of killing someone in a fashion such as she did explained a lot about her lifestyle in just a few words.

"You came all the way to London to tell me you killed a guy?" He poked his head out of the bathroom to consider her.

"No." Her tone was not humoured.

"Then explain Nat cos' you've got me beat." He yawned, returning to the bedroom and all but collapsing onto the bed, propping the pillows up and leaning against the headboard. She cocked her head.

"Nat?"

"It's a nickname. Nat – Natalia."

"Oh." She considered this for a moment.

"I can return to Natalia or Black Widow if you'd prefer?" He offered but she declined with a soft shake of her head.

"No. Nat is- Nat is fine." She complied.

"Then please _Nat _explain?" He gestured a hand for her to begin and she sighed, every movement in her body not wanting to but still, she did.

"I've been doing some research on S.H.I.E.L.D, information and how you work etc. I've been comparing your rules and obligations against Department X. The two organisations have very different priorities." She began.

"If you mean, we choose our agents based on talent and abilities and not how they are moulded then yeah, you could say we have different priorities. S.H.I.E.L.D works to defend the world against those that wish to harm it – terrorists, rogue agencies, illegal organisations, assassination attempts etc. Department X focussed solely on taking young girls, the very essence of an innocent child and turning them into ruthless killers by their tenth birthday. It's obscene you must be able to see that?" He replied, looking to her face for any expression – anything to suggest she even remotely agreed with him.

"I must be able to see it? Clint I've worked for these people since I was six years old. I was the innocent little girl they turned into a killer and I don't remember any different. I can't tell you if I like what I do, it's simply in my nature. I don't know how to do anything else." She implored.

"Surely you understand why it's wrong though?"

"Clint I have been there since I was six years old. Throughout my time with Red Room I have seen thousands of young girls pass through that door but I've never felt sorry for them, never wished they were anywhere else and do you know why? Because I can't wish that. They are going through exactly the same as I did when I was their age, just like me and so many other girls. I never experienced a child life on the outside – to me, this is all life is. And children who didn't experience this confuse me because it makes me wonder…what did they experience? What else is there?"

Clint looked at her. Despite what Coulson and Fury believed a huge part of him wanted to accept everything she was saying to him, not wanting to believe she had chosen to come clean with a bunch of lies.

"What are you thinking?" She asked as the silence became too much.

"That I want to believe you." She'd know in a heartbeat if he was lying, and he wanted to be honest.

"I'm not going to force you to believe me. There's no trust in forced ideas."

"Why are you here Natalia?" Clint returned to his original question as the world outside got darker and the silence inside grew longer.

"To answer your question."

He raised his head in confusion.

"In Ecuador. You asked me to go with you. I'm here to answer."

"And?"

"I can't." He sighed, a huge part of him expecting it but a small part hoping he was wrong.

"I am sure that S.H.I.E.L.D would be ideal for all the right reasons. But you have to understand I don't know that world. My world is Red Room – my world, my entire life is being sent out to do as I am told, not having the freedom to take vacations, to deny killing a target. You do that you get told off, you get paperwork. I do that I get tortured, I get –" whatever she was going to say, she stopped.

"All the more reason to leave. Sit here and tell me you like working for Petrov." He pressed.

"I have to go." She stepped up to leave but he wedged himself between the door and her.

"Just tell me. Tell me you like working for Petrov and I will move and you never have to see me again. I'll tell S.H.I.E.L.D you're dead." She didn't smile, but something changed in those large green eyes.

"I'm sure I will see you again soon."

And she brushed past him, and out into the night once more.

**One Year Later**

Dusty streets, sand sticking to every place imaginable and ridiculously uncomfortable heat. Marrakech was definitely not on his list of favourite places to work but naturally, it was the place he had been sent too. While the city itself was beautifully designed Clint found himself in the tightly packed, poorer parts of the city and in the middle of what was proving itself to be the hottest summer on record, he couldn't wait to leave.

Clint had been here for two weeks now, heading into his third. He was hot, tired and fed up and would definitely be requesting leave to the arctic as soon as he got back.

Fury had sent him on a basic mission that turned out to be something a lot more in depth and complicated than originally thought out. The original mission was to infiltrate a drugs ring, find the leader and end his tyranny. However the leader was one of three brothers, all working together on a huge crime ring. The first brother, that Clint had been sent after was making business on the import and export of highly illegal and mostly lethal drugs – transporting them all over the world under the pretence of medical help. It was making him rich and sought after, but at a huge body count.

The second brother, who Clint had finished with few days ago was part of a large terrorist group with hits on all sorts of important people. He had workers all over the globe and had, had a part to play in a variety of attacks, including the Indian Princess just over a year ago.

The third brother, the youngest at just below thirty was in Clint's mind, the worst. After dabbling in and around the drugs and the terrorism he had become his own boss, with a vast collection of young girls, some at the age of just seven who he kidnapped, drugged and beaten before building up his own child prostitution unit. The girls were of ages seven to sixteen and history suggested that those who failed to comply with requests, those who got too old (seventeen and upwards) were either raped till they became pregnant and then killed after the birth, or just killed there and then. He even had an illegal orphanage hooked up to look after the babies until of the 'appropriate age' and then sent out to work.

It was the sickest, most revolting idea Clint had ever come across and he had warned Fury that this mission would not be complete until the brother behind this abomination was killed by Clint's arrow.

He had been directed to the poorest part of Marrakech, or rather, just outside the city. Sitting in watch he had found the base of operations and watched, as the sun went down and the young girls were sent out to work. He had to fight each and every urge right there and then to jump down and beat the shit out of the brother standing there, watching those children go out and prostitute themselves to earn him money. He wouldn't be needing a dime where Clint was sending him.

He kept watch till the early hours, till the majority of the girls had returned, pockets laden with cash they would have to hand over and never see again. Eventually they all returned and the doors were closed off, the entire building now looking to be abandoned and going unnoticed to everyone other the marksmen who, reluctantly had left his spot and returned to the safe house to plan his infiltration. By the end of the night, this monstrosity would be over and the children safe.

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**Hope you enjoyed, hopefully chapter 7 will be up quicker than this one was but I hate promising anything just in case :) X**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 :) Thank you readers and reviewers :)**

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Others were admiring the buildings of Marrakech, he couldn't fault the beauty of the city. But after the night watch Clint's mind was in overdrive. Every stranger he passed, whether local or tourist, business man or holiday maker Clint couldn't help but consider – what if he slept with one of them? What if that well dressed, evidently wealthy man defiled a seven year girl last night and is now walking around with a smile on his face like it was okay. What must click in a man's, in anyone's mind to think – I'm going to sleep with a seven year old tonight. The whole town felt dirty and seedy and disgusting and before long Clint returned to the safe house and away from the public.

After checking in with his handler and reporting the events of last night Clint showered and ate, anything to take his mind off the work. He began cleaning his weapons, something he often found relaxing and distracting enough. This time it was a full clean, something he had failed to do for a while now.

Emptying out the quiver for his arrows, amongst the thin bladed weapons a scrap of paper fell too. Picking it up and placing his cleaning cloth on the bedside table he unfolded the parchment and looked at the drawing sketched out in detail.

Black Widow.

He had forgotten he drew the picture, back in Ecuador, but the bright eyes and scarlet hair could only have been one person. Since their encounter in London last year he hadn't seen her, and this proved to be an almighty distraction as he wondered where exactly she had gone.

Returning the paper to the quiver he continued to clean, his mind tracing back their three meetings and their conversations. He had told Fury that she was dead, both her and the S.H.I.E.L.D Agent managing to kill one another back in Ankara. This was also around the time he accidentally revealed he had been in Ankara, when overheard talking to Coulson one morning. Fury had been less than ecstatic about disobeyed orders and lying handlers and the pair of them had been given triple overtime, and all the paperwork for three months.

It wasn't something Clint planned on doing again in a hurry.

Maybe it was best he hadn't seen Widow in a while.

A restless sleep, another shower and another meal later and Clint had returned to his position outside the warehouse. This time he was fully mission kitted out and had spotted himself a way in when necessary. But for now he would lie in wait, the hope that the third brother would exit the building as he did the night before, giving Clint a clean, quick execution shot. Soon enough, around the same time again, the doors opened and the girls were sent out. Fighting the sickening sensation that returned to his stomach the minute he saw the scantily clad adolescence's Barton grabbed his bow and arrow and pulled it into position. One, swift, clean shot. Fire.

The arrow sailed through the air on a breezeless night and aimed directly for his heart. But before it could reach him, another figure stepped out the door, grabbing the arrow in a large fist and looking up at Clint's position. Yelling something in Turkish many more men abandoned the building, sights set on Clint.

"Shit." Clint swore to himself more than anyone else and quickly pressed his finger to his comm to ask for back up. Before he managed to speak however his arm was pulled away from the comm and the small earpiece tossed across the rooftop, clattering to the ground and squashed by another man's heavy footstep. Barton wasted no time in watching, adapting to the fight and swinging his punches, bringing out a pistol and shooting. He was outrageously outnumbered but managing to get a few knocks on the guards, firing with precision despite the chaos.

Things didn't take long to turn for the worse. Clint had the upper hand, managing to vitally shoot and injure the majority of his attackers. Succeeding until there was only a few more he could see Clint focussed on getting the job done when a blazing pain split through his side, throwing him to the ground. All around everything looked hazy, the pain a very familiar one as he recognised in an instant he'd been shot. It wasn't exactly the first time. Pressing a hand to his stomach it came up red and his vision was swimming around him. In the distance he heard noises and a couple of times something crashed to the ground nearby him until everything started looking weird. Pressing harder than he thought he could against his stomach his vision was a sea of deep red that moved in and out of view.

"Clint focus!" A voice yelled a couple of times, bringing him to reality. The sea of red wasn't in fact his blood, it was hair and the rogue Agent he hadn't seen in a year was the weight pressing down on his stomach.

"Nat?" He croaked, his voice sounding unlike his own as he coughed and spluttered.

"Shut up, don't talk you'll make it worse." She cursed in Russian and quickly stripped her jacket off, bundling up and pushing it against his side, awakening the pain. Clint grunted against the action as she moved his arms to push down on the jacket.

"Hold. What's your communications number?" she asked urgently.

"What?"

"Comm number, now!" She replied, a slight tone of desperation behind her commands.

"4582,6161." He relayed weakly and watched as she pressed something against her own ear.

"Listen to me, I don't have time to explain. You need to get a medical rescue team out here immediately, Barton's been shot in the stomach and he needs attention! That doesn't matter just do as I say!" She yelled quickly down the earpiece before taking her finger away and assessing the damage.

"Bastard…" Clint pointed to the edge of the roof and she quickly worked out what he was saying.

"Lying in a pool of his own blood, much like you are at the moment." She replied.

"How did-?"

"Please, I've been watching since the moment you landed here." She smirked. It was the last thing he saw before everything went fuzzy again and then black.

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**Tasha here to save Clint :) Hope you're all enjoying :)**


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